


red, gold (burning)

by tentography



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Brief Mention of Blood, Cussing, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of underaged drinking, Slow Burn, also one single teeny tiny mention of markhyuck, dotae on the side, every nct/wayv member is mentioned but i only tagged those with lines, flirting disguised as bullying, johnny is emotionally stunted, kun is dense, no actual bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentography/pseuds/tentography
Summary: “Qian,” a familiar voice rumbles above him and Kun doesn’t need to look up from the broad chest in front of him to see who it is, the lecture on platform safety practices dying in his throat at a speed so fast he has to brace himself before he even has the power to face the other. Fuck.“John Suh,” he says tersely, looking down at where a large hand is still fisted in his cloak, before looking up to meet those honey-brown eyes from hell. “Nice to see you again.”“Likewise,” John Suh says with the same lack of sincerity as Kun, letting go of his cloak with a nod.Alternatively: Kun Qian and the Audacity Of This Bitch
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Comments: 30
Kudos: 195
Collections: Johnkun Fic Fest Round 1 (2020)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For JKFF.
> 
> Prompt #H034. Hogwarts AU: rival prefects johnkun who always seem to find chances to be around each other.
> 
> -  
> Not fully in line with the HP-verse. The biggest changes I've made are that prefects start from their second year and Yule ball is now a yearly event. I also made up a few other minor things along the way. But please don't worry too much about any discrepancies and enjoy johnkun being dorks for 10k+ words. ❤️

Kun bites back a yawn as he directs countless of rosy-cheeked students out of the Hogwarts Express and into the frenzy of Hogsmeade station. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, the excitement of a new academic year and the prospect of seeing his friends again after a lonely summer break keeping him awake all night. He’d fully intended to sleep on the train, but in between checking in early with Head Boy Taeil in the prefect cabin and catching up with his friends, he’d only been able to take a short nap along the ride to Hogwarts. After five years of friendship, Kun still hasn’t mastered the art of getting Ten and Doyoung to stop talking and/or bickering for more than twenty minutes at a time.

He shakes off another yawn creeping up on him, when a familiar set of one deep voice and one high voice call out to him.

“Prefect Kun!”

He turns at the sound, smiling at the frantically waving Chenle and Jisung as they run past, the flutter of their cloaks barely audible over their excited laughter and the hustle and bustle on the platform. Kun watches them rush towards the carriages where their friends are waiting for them, eager to get to the castle.

Safely seeing them aboard the carriage, Kun shifts his attention back to the platform. He swiftly moves in to help the tiniest first-year student he’s ever seen off the train. Her hand is shaking a little bit in his own as she jumps off the train and onto the platform.

Kun gives her a reassuring smile, wishing her an amazing year as he redirects her to the right carriage where Prefect Yuta’s tasked with welcoming the new students. The Slytherin Prefect has a bad habit of messing with the first years by greeting them with his trademarked intimidating face, before flooring them all with his dazzling smile.

Kun vividly remembers being similarly wide-eyed and anxious on his first day, almost five years ago already. He’d been so nervous and excited at the thought of finally being in an all-wizard environment, having been raised among muggles for most of his life with his non-magical parents. Sure, he’d spend his summers with his grandmother on his mother’s side who taught him everything a budding wizard should know when it became clear that magic coursed through his veins. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the true wonders of the wizarding world. He’ll never take any of this for granted.

A student bumps into him and apologizes profusely, snapping Kun out of his reverie. He smacks himself on the cheek a few times for good measure, moving aside right on time to let a gaggle of young Slytherins pass by, too busy regaling one another with stories of their swanky summer houses and tropical vacations to notice him. He’s about to remind them to watch where they’re going when an arm hooks over his shoulder and tugs him into a smothering embrace before he even has the chance to raise his voice.

“Kun-ge! What’s up bro?” a deep voice booms right into his ear.

“Lucas,” Kun mumbles against the thick fabric of Lucas’ cloak, awkwardly patting his friend on the back as he tries to extract himself from his iron grip. “I see Thailand has done you well.”

Lucas lets him go, his sunny smile shining brightly on his warmly tanned face and Kun can’t help but mirror the smile. “Nothing beats beach Quidditch.”

“I’ll bet,” Kun laughs, taking in the bandage on Lucas’ nose and his already crooked Gryffindor tie. “It looks like you had a great time.”

“You should come next summer. We’ll get some colour on you, bro!”

Kun grimaces, remembering the last time he went along with Ten and Lucas to their home country. He truly tried very hard, but no matter how many anti-sunburn spells they came up with and no matter how much sunscreen he slathered across his body, he just doesn’t tan. All that happens when you put Kun and the blazing hot sun together is fiery-red sunburnt skin and a bulk purchase of aloe vera gel. “I’ll think about it.”

“I swear, we’ll have the greatest time. You won’t even have to play Quidditch if you don’t want to,” Lucas chatters on, gesturing wildly. “Oh crap, I think the team is leaving. We’re starting practice as soon as we can!” Lucas grins, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Go on then, before you miss practice,” Kun teases, laughing at Lucas’ frown.

“That’s not funny!” Lucas gasps before running off, yelling over his shoulder. “Good luck with this mess. Catch you later, yeah!”

Kun’s left with a buzz in his ears as Lucas shout excitedly at some of his team-mates near the carriages. He seriously feels like the Gryffindor’s love for Quidditch gets bigger and bigger by the year. It’ll only be a matter of time before he gets scouted.

It hasn’t even been more than half an hour of platform duty for Kun, but he can already feel an ache licking at the back of his head, the lack of sleep finally catching up on him. The onslaught of laughter and talking and sounds and colours red, green, blue and yellow battering at his eyes and ears from all sides doing exactly nothing to stave off his migraine.

He sighs, rubbing at his temples and he considers calling Doyoung over to take over his shift, the Ravenclaw prefect still owes him a favour or two. He looks around, searching for that familiar set of perfect pitch-black hair and thin-rimmed glasses, but a tug at his back makes him stagger backwards and he almost thinks he’s fainting. He barely registers the hand that’s gripping at his cloak, pulling him away from the platform and into the infinitely quieter interior of the emptying train.

“Qian,” a familiar voice rumbles above him and Kun doesn’t need to look up from the broad chest in front of him to see who it is, the lecture on platform safety practices dying in his throat at a speed so fast he has to brace himself before he even has the power to face the other. _Fuck._

“John Suh,” he says tersely, looking down at where a large hand is still fisted in his cloak, before looking up to meet those honey-brown eyes from hell. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” John Suh says with the same lack of sincerity as Kun, letting go of his cloak with a nod. “You weren’t in the prefect cabin.”

Kun has to remind himself not to roll his eyes at John Suh’s annoying way of phrasing his questions as statements instead of just _asking_ like a normal person _._ He swears that John Suh takes weeks off his life every time they talk. Taking a deep breath to stave off an insult or two, Kun bites out an answer. “I checked in early and went to sit with my friends in coach.”

“I see,” John Suh nods and Kun doesn’t even know why he’s asking (but not really asking), because John Suh really has no business knowing what Kun is up to in the first place. “Well, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight?” Kun asks, feeling his waning headache coming back in full force. 

“You don’t know.” John Suh quirks his brow. “We’re on patrol duty together.”

Kun blinks. “Come again?”

John Suh casually shrugs like he hasn’t just rocked his world. “Chenle and Jisung came by begging Taeil and Seulgi to let them patrol together, even though they are in different houses. You’re with me tonight.”

“That sounds like an awful idea. It’s only their first year as prefects.” Kun is going to throttle Chenle later when he sees him in the Hufflepuff common room. He really, really will.

“That’s what I said, too, but you know how they are with the underclassmen. They’re too kind to be Head Boy and Girl,” John Suh agrees in an even bigger turn of events. John Suh has never agreed with Kun on anything. Ever. “We start in the lower east wing.”

John Suh leaves at that, exiting just as fast as he reeled Kun in, leaving him standing dumbly in the train corridor without even so much as a goodbye. Which is just as well. Kun doesn’t trust that his voice wouldn’t have betrayed the disgusting amount of dread forming in the pit of his belly at the thought of having to be alone at night walking the halls with John fucking Suh for two hours straight.

He exits the train, thinking of ways he can prevent having to patrol with John Suh. Maybe Taeyong-hyung would want to switch shifts. He mulls it over when Ten appears beside him with a click of his tongue and a smirk on his face.

“Did I see you talking to Johnny just now?” Ten asks, clearly enjoying the apprehension and dread playing out on his face.

“Yeah,” Kun croaks out, coughing before he continues. “We’re patrolling tonight.”

“Holy shit,” Ten buzzes, tugging at his green tie with glee. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course I won’t be okay,” Kun snaps, walking off to help a student with their luggage right as Ten bursts into a fit of laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

Kun has no clue why John Suh hates him with the force of a thousand burning suns.

At first, he thought it was a Ten thing.

Kun and Ten had become good friends in their first months at Hogwarts. Their friendship had been an unlikely one: Ten insulted his Quivering Bell Plant on their very first day as assigned seatmates in a herbology class and Kun, who’d never let anyone insult his plants, shot back.

“Your flower looks like shit,” Ten said, poking at the withering leaves with his quill.

“It’s supposed to look like shit,” Kun said, snatching Ten’s quill from his hand before he could damage the fragile plant. He scoffed, assessing Ten’s plant next to his own. “One potion brew with those pretty leaves of yours will give you diarrhoea so violent you won’t be able to sit in these rock hard benches without a special pillow for at least two whole weeks. Trim the red leaves and leave the ugly ones.”

Ten blinked at him in surprise, then at his fingers stained with the ink of his confiscated quill, and then back at him before laughing so hard he’d almost been sent to detention.

They’d been friends ever since.

He’d heard of John Suh through the grapevine and (of course) through Ten’s complete inability to shut up. He quickly came to learn that Ten and John Suh were childhood friends: their parents were friends, they went to the same kindergarten and even had the same early-magic tutors, you know, the whole shebang. So, he figured that John Suh’s bugging was his way of claiming True Ownership over Ten’s friendship or some other nonsense.

And it wasn’t even that John Suh bullied him or anything. It’s just that, for as long as he remembered, John Suh would find ways to provoke him all the fucking time, despite being a grade above him and thus having almost no reason to even be interacting with him in the first place.

John Suh was like an annoying bee buzzing dangerously close to his face, but he couldn't even smash it or swat it away because y' know, #SaveTheBees and all.

It started rather innocently with strange looks.

The first time Kun noticed had been one week into a two month long Wizard Health seminar in his first year. As an aspiring prefect, Kun deduced that taking the seminar would look good on his application, so he was willing to take on the extra course load. He knew that he had made the proper call when he saw a bunch of prefects in the benches with him on the first day of the seminar.

He recognized Gryffindor prefects John Suh and Seulgi, Slytherin’s Joy, Ravenclaw’s Taeil and his own Hufflepuff’sTaeyong sitting neatly in the front row.

Prefect Taeyong welcomed him warmly, patting the empty seat next to him in an invitation. Kun expected nothing less from his soft-hearted upperclassman.

“This is Kun Qian,” Prefect Taeyong said to the others and he’d received perfunctory greetings, which he returned in an equally perfunctory manner right as the Professor walked in and promptly began the seminar.

That had been the extent of his interactions with the group of prefects. Not because he didn’t want to socialize with them, but because he had no time for anything more than polite greetings. The seminars were scheduled right after his Defence of the Dark Arts class which meant that he’d have to rush across the castle, arriving just on time to slide in the empty seat Prefect Taeyong would leave for him.

Sure, there were plenty of other opportunities during the seminar to interact with his upperclassmen, but Kun barely had the mind for anything more than pleasantries in between diligently writing notes, reading up on the next module and sneakily doing homework for his other classes.

So, it honestly caught him off-guard when in the second week of the seminar, during the emergency aid module, he noticed that John Suh wasn’t paying attention to the front of the classroom where the professor had laid out wizarding mouth-to-mouth techniques in neat charts and illustrations. Instead, John Suh’s eyes were firmly set on Kun himself, chin cradled in his hand, eyes vacant.

Kun brushed it off as nothing, figuring that John Suh must’ve been spacing out in his general direction. Until later that week, when Kun had been walking across the courtyard to where Doyoung and Ten were sitting in the grass. He could’ve sworn that he saw John Suh’s head whip in his direction as he passed him and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, his eyes practically shooting daggers at him.

It left Kun wondering if he had done anything to insult the upperclassman in any way, but Kun couldn’t think of anything. He was always busy during the one seminar they shared. Kun quite literally had no other connection to the other, except through Ten.

“He’s glaring again,” Kun whispered, ducking his head to bow over his books, hoping that it would stop John Suh from looking at him like he committed heinous crimes against wizardkind on a daily basis.

They were doing homework in the Great Hall and minding their own business, but John Suh was doing it, _again._

“Who’s doing what?” Ten asked distractedly, barely looking up from his parchment.

“John Suh,” Kun hissed and that caused Ten to finally look at him. He jutted his chin to the right where John Suh was sitting a table over and across from them, a large tome lying untouched before him.

“Is he taking the piss? He’s actually glaring at us,” Ten snorted, slamming down his quill and Kun was momentarily happy that someone _finally_ noticed the weirdness of his situation.

But then, to Kun’s absolute horror, Ten raised his voice and shouted over, “Johnny, mate, are you taking the piss?!”

A few students turned to look at the commotion, whispering to one another with searching eyes, and before Kun knew what was happening John Suh stood right in front of him. Kun wanted to disappear into thin air.

“What are you doing,” John Suh said and his tone was so goddamn annoying Kun wanted to roll his eyes into the next century. But he couldn’t because John Suh was a grade above him and a _prefect_ and Kun wanted to be one too.

“Homework,” Kun answered, swallowing down the ‘obviously’ he’d wanted to tack on. But John Suh must’ve known how to read minds because his eyes narrowed and his glare sharpened.

“Ten, you know this kid,” he’d said to Ten without looking away from Kun, and _that_ really pissed Ten off.

“Kid?” Ten repeated incredulously, shifting closer so he’d be in John Suh’s line of sight. “ _Kun_ is my good friend. What the fuck is your issue today?”

Kun was almost touched at the anger in Ten’s voice hadn’t this entire situation been caused by him in the first place. He silently shifted away.

John Suh finally turned to Ten, and Kun felt like he could breathe again, secretly cheering when John Suh frowned at Ten's words. “You’re friends.”

“Yes, so what is your problem?” Ten frowned back.

John Suh seemed to assess the answer, before nodding with a finality that would haunt Kun for years to come. “No problem at all. Good luck with the homework.”

Then, Kun watched as John Suh stumbled out of the Great Hall, his cheeks puffed and hands gripping at his robes. “Is he okay? He forgot his book.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Ten assured him after John Suh disappeared behind the massive doors, voice laced with amusement. He tapped his quill against his cheek in contemplation, smiling about God knows what, and then promptly went back to his homework without a care in the world.

And Kun had tried not to worry about it, truly. But the glaring had continued throughout his first year. That was three full terms of walking around Hogwarts in fear of John Suh’s blazing eyes. He had been so glad when the health seminar was over, but that hadn’t stopped John Suh from somehow stumbling upon him in the hallways every damn day.

It escalated the next year when Lucas enrolled, and Kun finally became a prefect himself. That’s when he realized that rather than a Ten thing, it might’ve been a _him_ thing all along.

It was in that second year when things between John Suh and him started to become... odd. Realistically speaking, things were already odd between the two of them. But Kun didn’t want to jeopardize his chance at becoming a prefect, so he dealt with the funny looks and the constant bumping of shoulders in the corridors, even though it pissed him off.

If Kun had to describe his interactions with John Suh in a few words, he’d quite frankly call them bizarre at their best and downright offensive at their worst. But nothing could hold him back anymore when he finally got the prefect patch on his uniform sowed on. He decided to make John Suh’s life miserable any chance he could get. It was high time for a little payback.

It had been early on in the first term on a chilly weekday. Kun, Doyoung and Sicheng were sitting on the bleachers next to the Quidditch practice field, chatting about nothing in particular.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Kun perked up when he finally saw John Suh storming up to them, his red Quidditch uniform robes fluttering in the wind.

“You don’t play,” John Suh practically growled at him, completely ignoring Doyoung and Sicheng at his side.

“That’s an astute observation,” Kun said, carefully hiding his glee as John Suh’s gloved hand tightened on his broomstick.

“What are you doing here, Qian.”

“Observing your Quidditch practice.”

“You never do.”

“Lucas made the team.”

“And.”

“ _And_ he’s our friend who we want to support.” And Kun knew that John Suh would be annoyed if he saw him in the bleachers. He so very loved being right. “Got any issues with that?”

“No.” John Suh narrowed his eyes, the wind jostling the brown locks framing his face. “I don’t.”

“Your practice is starting.” Kun pointed at the field where the other Gryffindors were gathering, easily spotting Lucas among the shorter players. Kun waved.

John Suh clicked his tongue and left without another word.

“The fuck was that all about?” Sicheng asked and Kun forgot that the Ravenclaw hadn’t been around during the Reign Of Terror that was Kun’s first year.

Kun shrugged and explained. “John Suh doesn’t like me for some reason. He’ll get over it.”

Doyoung had laughed and Sicheng had watched the Gryffindor’s Quidditch practice with renewed interest.

John Suh never got over it.

The next time he had a notable altercation with John Suh was at the library a few weeks later. He’d been perusing the tomes when someone bumped into him and pushed him against the shelves, holding him down by the fabric of his uniform. Honestly, Kun hadn’t expected John Suh to resort to physical attacks.

“Tell your boyfriend that practice is cancelled today,” John Suh whispered, his face so close that Kun could count the freckles dotted across his nose and-

Hold on. “My what now?”

John Suh blinked, saying his next words slowly.“Your boyfriend Lucas.”

Kun couldn’t stop the snort from bubbling out, laughing in John Suh’s deadpan face. “Oh, you’re serious? He-, _god_ no. We’re not dating, he’s like my little brother.”

John Suh stepped back, letting go of Kun’s sweater vest. “Oh, okay. That’s good.”

“Good?” Kun questioned, knitting his brows.

“Yeah,” John Suh said happily, turning to leave.

“Hold up one second,” Kun called out, grabbing a fistful of John Suh’s sweater to pull him back. “Good? Why good? Don’t tell me you’re a homophobe?” Kun hissed, disgust lacing his voice.

“Of course not,” John Suh sneered back, roughly unfurling Kun’s fist from his sweater.

“Then why did you say it was go-”

“Silence!” The librarian called out across the open hall of the library, voice booming so loudly it caused the shelves to shake. Kun’s jaw snapped shut at the silencing spell, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat.

John Suh’s mouth moved rapidly, but no sound came out and Kun couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. The librarian must’ve spelt him silent, too.

Realizing that Kun had no idea what he was mouthing, John Suh stopped trying. He shook his head, giving Kun an odd look before walking away, leaving him dazed and confused as hell between the Early Modern Wizardry and Advanced Herbology stacks.


	3. Chapter 3

Kun is hardly being dramatic when he says that patrolling with John fucking Suh is the last thing he wants to do on his first day back at Hogwarts. His original plan had been to celebrate Chenle's new status as prefect with Xiaojun and the others in the Hufflepuff common room, but he didn't even get the chance to drop by the party after dinner. He'd been requested to work out an issue at the library - someone magicked the Divination tomes A to C up the air and they needed extra wands to ensure that no one got hurt while the professors and librarians coaxed them back down.

He barely had the time to rush over towards the east wing for his first patrol shift after the last tome was plucked from the air and nestled back in the right stack. And to make it all even worse, he’s still only running on less than four hours of sleep. He doesn't know if he'll survive the night. 

Before he even rounds the corner to the east wing, though, John Suh’s voice calls out to him. “Qian.”

Armed with a pep-talk from Ten, a thumbs up from Doyoung, and a smack on the back from Lucas, Kun turns the corner. "Yes. Shall we?"

Patrol duty proceeds as it should for the most part. They walk the halls in silence and while it isn’t awkward per se, Kun can tell that they are both tense. He wonders if John Suh's ramrod-straight posture is due to his presence or if he pulled a muscle during their first Quidditch practice. He hopes its the latter. That would serve him right.

The east wing is silent tonight. There’s not much activity from students and the (un)dead, which is to be expected at the start of the school year. Kun is thankful for the reprieve, rubbing at his tired eyes.

“Are you tired,” John Suh says in that _tone_ of his and Kun is so done with the day, he has no power left in his body to filter his words.

“Why the hell do you talk like that?” Kun asks, a little delirious. His too-loud voice echoing the question down the empty stone corridors.

“Like what.”

“Like _that._ You never ask questions, you just, I don’t know, state things. It’s so aggressive and not to mention annoying as hell.”

“No, I don’t.” John Suh falters, not even looking at him as he slows down to a stop.

Kun follows his pace, laughing at John Suh’s stupid denial as they come to a standstill in the dark corridor. “You do it all the time, at least, to me.”

“Oh.” John Suh crosses his arms, looking at Kun with his stupid puppy eyes before uncrossing his arms again. “So, are you? Tired, that is.”

Kun muffles a slightly unhinged cackle behind his hand at the new questioning tone, rolling his eyes as he walks on to continue their route. “Yeah, I’m tired. If the bags under my eyes weren’t enough of an indication.”

John Suh jogs after him, his shoes skidding across the stone and soon they are walking side by side again. “Back to school jitters?”

Kun gives John Suh a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised. “You get them, too?” 

“Every year,” John Suh admits sheepily, tugging at his earlobe.

The movement has Kun noticing the lock of hair curling around John Suh’s ear in a meeting of soft hair and what must be even softer skin. Kun grunts at the answer, looking away.

John Suh doesn’t try to talk to him anymore after that, and Kun decides that he only feels disappointed because his sleep-deprived brain could've used a pick-me-up in the form of their usual scathing banter. He's not at all disappointed because John Suh's deep voice is oddly soothing when he's not yelling insults at him and doing wonders for his headache.

It is halfway into their route that Kun hears a faint rustle. It’s so quiet he can’t make out what it might be.

“Do you hear that?” Kun stops in his tracks, and John Suh almost stumbles. Kun reaches out to steady him. “Careful. You okay?”

John Suh nods, gesturing to their left. “It’s coming from there.”

They round another corner and Kun pauses, holding up a hand for John Suh to do the same. Kun is surprised when he follows without question, tilting his head towards the odd sounds coming from the dark corridor.

They take out their wands, edging closer to the sounds coming from an alcove on the far side of the hall. It isn’t until they are a few metres away that Kun realizes what he’s hearing.

He whips around, eyes wide, throwing his arm around John Suh to stop him before he comes closer, muffling his laughter in the crook of his elbow.

John Suh stills and is clearly about to protest, but Kun presses a finger to his lips before he gets the chance to alert the students clearly _making out_ in what must be the most unromantic hallway in the entire goddamn castle. The extremely haunted area of Hogwarts is only a few corners away, and nothing kills the mood faster than a bunch of ghosts floating about with their guts spilling from their open cavities. Kun can name at least five nearly unhaunted spots that would've been better for a back-to-school make out sesh than this place.

Catching students doing salacious things is up there in his list of Favorite Things Prefects Get To Do and Kun will be damned before John Suh can take away this hilarious moment from him. He only moves his finger from John Suh’s soft lips when he’s sure that he isn’t going to make a sound.

‘Sorry,’ he mouths, and John Suh answers with a questioning look that shoots his eyebrows so far up his forehead, they disappear beneath the bangs sweeping delicately across his confused face.

Kun rolls his eyes, pointing at the alcove. ‘They are making out.’

But John Suh doesn’t get what he is trying to say as he only frowns in return, shaking his head.

He tries again, slowly moving his lips as if to articulate the words. John Suh’s eyes zero in on his mouth. ‘Students. Making. Out.’

This time Kun is sure that he understands if he can trust the blush sweeping across John Suh’s face at an alarming rate and the way his eyes dart back and forth between his lips and alcove in rapid succession.

John Suh points to his lips to get Kun’s attention, awkwardly forming his words. ‘You’re sure?’

Kun smirks, gesturing towards himself and then towards the nook where the sounds are becoming increasingly dubious. ‘Let me.’

John Suh nods eagerly, curious to see what Kun’s going to do.

Kun takes out his wand again and clears his throat. “Lumos!”

The dark hallway lights up, almost blinding Kun’s eyes and he adjusts the spell so it doesn’t burn off his retinas. Kun squints against the light, hearing the students scramble and curse up a storm. “I’ll give you two a moment to get yourselves together, but don’t think you can run away.”

John Suh walks up to him right when Kun hears a set of gasps, followed by a long groan. “Shit, is that Prefect Kun?”

Kun turns to John Suh, surprised at the blush still riding high on his cheeks. “Told you.”

John Suh laughs. “They’re scared of you, Qian.”

The students finally come out of the nook muttering apologies, their uniforms in disarray and their faces red hot with embarrassment.

Kun lets the pair off with a warning and a few empty threats, telling them he’ll report to their Prefect Doyoung unless they immediately return to their dorms. That got the Ravenclaws running off so fast, he didn’t even get the chance to ask John Suh for his opinion.

He pockets his wand and cloaks the hallway in darkness again, turning to John Suh to apologize but he immediately forgets what he wants to say at the sight.

John Suh is trembling slightly as he chuckles, his face softly illuminated by the moon filtering in from the large windows on their left. His eyes are full of delight, and Kun can’t tell if the redness splotched on his cheeks and trailing down to his neck is from his laughter or from catching the students in the act.

“Are you okay?” Kun laughs, and he sounds a bit crazed to his own ears.

“Yes,” John Suh coughs, straightening himself out, before walking on. “I was surprised, is all.”

Kun runs after John Suh, barely keeping up with his fast pace and long, long legs. “Is this the first time you’ve walked in on people? I always catch Mark and Haechan near the Slytherin corridors.”

“Mark sneaks out of Gryffindor tower halfway across the castle to make out with Haechan?” John Suh asks incredulously, voice rising with each word and he sounds so surprised that Kun has a hard time hiding his own amusement. “It’s not as if they don’t make out every other hour of the day.”

Kun smiles at John Suh’s disappointment in his underclassmen, cataloguing the expression he’s never seen on the other’s face as a pout. “Kids these days, huh.”

“You’re not that old,” John Suh quips.

Kun sighs. “That doesn’t stop me from feeling old, sometimes.”

That gets him a chuckle from John Suh, the sound settling somewhere deep in his chest and Kun thinks that, maybe, things might be a bit different this year.

The next day at breakfast, Ten slides in next to him, patiently waiting while Kun chews out Chenle for cajoling the Head Boy and Girl into letting him do whatever he wants without regards for other people.

“And, how was it?” Ten asks over the sound of Chenle’s apologies.

“It was, I don’t know, it was fine, I guess.” Kun decides, smiling at the red strawberry jam on his toast.

“Are you serious?” Ten says excitedly, pulling at Kun’s uniform sweater. “He finally listened...”

“What?” Kun asks distractedly, looking up from his toast to pluck Ten’s hands from his clothes.

“I _said_ ,” Ten says loudly, “you finally listened. I told you that you would be fine.”

Kun cocks his eyebrow. “You said - and I quote - ‘what’s the worst thing he could do. It’s not as if he’s going to beat you up. He’s just a little bit of a weirdo when it comes to you. I’m sure he won’t physically harm you, probably.’ You never said that I would be fine.”

Ten shrugs, reaching over to grab a croissant. “It was implied.”

“Whatever.” Kun sighs, taking a few bites of his breakfast before he runs out of time and has to rush over to his first class. “Did anything happen over the summer? He seemed different.”

Ten thinks it over, munching on his croissant while he talks. “Johnny floo’ed in and visited Thailand, played Quidditch with Lucas. God, I had to watch them practice for hours on the beach, their stamina is insane. We had a few drinks and he confessed that− uh. That he was thinking about− He’s thinking about taking a different elective. I don’t know, he probably grew up or something.”

Kun mulls over the words, poking absentmindedly at his breakfast. Maybe he should take Lucas up on his offer and join them in Thailand next time instead of going back to his aunt’s for the summer.

“Are you going to the practice game tonight?” Ten wipes his fingers on a napkin, taking a careful sip of his coffee.

Kun laughs. “Like Lucas would forgive me if I missed it.”

That night, sitting with his friends as they go over the game with Lucas, Kun frowns when he realizes that he can’t recall a single play made by his friend. His frown morphing into a look of panic as his mind plays a particular play over and over again.

Keeper John Suh, high up in the air, perfectly balanced on his broom. His hair damp with sweat, and his flushed cheeks a delightful shade of pink, cloak fanned out behind him by the wind, defending the goals with unrivalled speed and the raw power behind his broad shoulders.

“Kun.” Doyoung nudges Kun’s shoulder with his own, snapping him out of his internal panic attack. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Kun murmurs, shaking away his unsavoury thoughts of John Fucking Suh. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

Tired of life, evidently.


	4. Chapter 4

Kun hurries along the stone hallway, going as fast as he can without downright making a run for it. That wouldn’t be a good look as a prefect, Kun thinks, clutching his tome against his chest when he finally catches sight of his classroom. He slows his pace, looking at his wristwatch with a pleased smile. He still has two minutes to go.

But a familiar figure passes him in a mess of long limbs, red accents and _broad shoulders_.

“John Suh, what brings you here?” Kun calls out before he can catch himself.

John Suh turns to him, slowing his pace and giving Kun the chance to catch up. “Detention.”

“I was under the impression that I’d be supervising today, though?”

“I know, I saw the list.”

“Then why are you..” Kun starts and John Suh doesn’t wait for him to put two and two together, slipping into the classroom without a word. _Oh._

He’s here for detention. Kun is supervising John Suh’s detention. John Suh has committed an unprefectly act and is here to receive his punishment. A punishment doled out by none other than Kun himself.

Kun is pretty sure he’s had dreams that went like this, except that was before John Suh started treating him like a normal human being instead of an insect he wanted to kill with his very large hands.

Kun shakes his head, walking through the heavy doors before closing it with a flick of his wand. He makes his way to the wooden desk at the front of the classroom as the chatter in the room dies down at his wordless magic, his smile widening with every second passing in increased silence. He takes his time settling his tome and quill on his desk, carefully rearranging the papers addressed to him lying neatly on his desk.

It is absolutely silent when he finally takes his seat.

Kun only speaks loud enough for the students in the back to barely hear him. “No funny business and you and I will have no problems. Come by my desk if you have any homework-related questions. I expect absolute silence from all of you, or else you’ll be back here tomorrow with a supervisor who is far more strict than I could ever be.”

Doyoung truly thrives on fear. That’s probably why they are such good friends.

He sweeps his eyes across the classroom, noting the students who look like they’re going to be trouble with practised ease. “Your two hours start now.”

He goes over the list of detentions readied for him on the desk, matching the names with the faces in front of him while the students slowly gather their tomes and quills.

He pauses when he gets to John Suh on his list. Violent misconduct. A serious offence by any means, Kun wonders how he only got off with detention. He looks up, finding John Suh sitting at the front with a smug smile on his face. Then, he notices the pair of students glaring at him from behind, faces all roughed up.

Kun checks his list, looking for their names and sees the same words: violent misconduct.

Well, there you have it. He probably got into some kind of fight, looking completely unapologetic about it, too. Kun bites the inside of his cheek, fending off the grin threatening at the corners of his mouth.

Halfway through the second hour and only two stern warnings later, Kun looks up at the sound of a wooden chair scraping across the stone floor. 

John Suh’s walking over to his desk, a book shoved beneath his arm and a quill in his hand.

“A homework question?” Kun asks, cocking a brow at John Suh as he leans against his desk.

“Yeah,” John Suh says, opening his book to a page on muggle electronics. “I thought that you could provide some valuable insights for my term paper.”

“Muggle Studies, huh. What do you want to know?” He didn’t peg John Suh as someone who’d take this elective. Nor was he aware that John Suh knew that he spent most of his childhood in the muggle world. It must’ve been Ten who told him, that fucker.

John Suh points to a set of pictures. “What’s the point of having all these different devices? Why buy a laptop if you have a computer or a tablet?”

Kun thinks it over, eyes fixated on John Suh's bandaged fingers dancing across the pages. “Each device serves its own purpose. It may seem cumbersome to you to have all these different machines, like a laptop for school or a tablet for leisure. But you’ll think differently once you try writing a 5000 word paper on a touch-screen pad, or read a 600-page novel off your computer screen.”

“Do all muggles have the same devices, then?” His fingers stall on a picture of a horribly outdated computer, curling slightly and like this, Kun can see the callouses on his hand from playing all that Quidditch. 

“No." Kun clears his throat, peering at John Suh's attentive face from beneath his lashes. "Financial situations and personal needs are important factors to consider when purchasing any electronic device. Does that make sense?”

"Yeah, it does. Do you have any of these things, Qian?" John Suh asks, sitting on his desk in his enthusiasm and Kun doesn’t have the heart to tell him to _please_ not do that.

"I do."

"Which ones?"

“Let me think.” Kun bites his lip, tilting his head. “I have an iPhone, a Macbook, a few old cameras, a tv, and a switch... I think I might still have my old GameBoys lying around and my aunt has an Alexa in her house, though I rarely use it..” Kun trails off, wondering if he missed something.

"I have no idea what half of those are." John Suh laughs sheepishly.

He leans back into his chair, and Kun doesn’t know where he got the guts to say his next words. "I can show you a few things in my room if you'd like."

“Really?” John Suh whispers, and Kun’s breath catches in his throat.

“I’m allowed to have my phone, but not in class, though.” He leans forward, gesturing at John Suh to come closer. “Between you and me... I snuck in my laptop. Hogwarts Wi-Fi isn’t all that bad, you know,” he whispers.

John Suh bows his head close enough for Kun to hear his almost quiet words. “You’d show me?”

“Are you busy after detention?” Kun asks, his breath ghosting across that one lock curling around John Suh’s ear.

“Free as a bird.” John Suh shakes his head, and the movement causes his hair to tickle Kun’s cheek.

“Then I’ll show you, if you’d like,” Kun answers finally before leaning back into his chair. “You may return to your seat now, John Suh,” he says, voice miraculously steady despite the way his chest feels like it’ll burst open at the rapid beating of his heart.

John Suh goes as instructed without another word, his book laying forgotten on Kun’s desk. And Kun is left wondering during the remainder of detention what the hell’s happened to John Suh over the summer for his attitude to change this much.

“Well?” Kun says to John Suh who is waiting for him in the corridor right outside the classroom, handing him back his forgotten textbook.

John Suh mumbles a thanks, clutching his book with a frown as he kicks off from the wall. “Well, what?”

"Are you going to tell me why you were in detention or am I going to have to hear the exaggerated story from Ten?" He closes the door of the classroom and locks it behind him with a swift flick of his wand.

“I might tell you.” John Suh taps his chin in fake contemplation. “But only after you show me your contraband.”

“Fair enough,” Kun concedes, gesturing for John Suh to follow him down to Hufflepuff Basement.

They’ve only barely taken a single step when Chenle comes barreling down the corridor with a suspiciously large bag hanging off his shoulder. “Kun-ge!”

“Why are you running,” Kun says, meeting Chenle halfway with a worried frown, only barely registering John Suh’s hurried steps following after him.

Chenle slams his palms together as he gulps in a breath of air. “Can you please, please, _please,_ take over my patrol shift? You see, Jisung is going to show me how to uh, how to make this potion and uh- oh, yes! Taeyong-hyung told me to go ask you, because he doesn’t have time either. So, would you _please?_ ”

“Okay, hold on. Slow down.” Kun pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache he can already feel building at the base of his neck. “I can’t patrol on my own, and you know that it’s your responsibility as a prefect to patrol the halls. Especially in your first year as prefect.”

“I can patrol with you,” John Suh pipes up next to him and Kun didn’t even realize he followed him down the corridor in the first place.

“That’s not the point.” Kun glares at John Suh, but the numbnut misses it as he pats Chenle’s back, handing him a cup of water from god knows where.

Chenle gulps down the water in one go, returning the cup with a smile. “Would you Johnny-hyung?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not,” John Suh grins, magicking the now empty glass away.

“Okay, thank you! Thank you!” Chenle bounces on his feet, hoisting up his bag from where it slid off his shoulder. “Jisung and I will take over extra shifts off your hands we swear! If you need us just tell Jisung whenever you see him in Gryffindor Tower!”

And before Kun can get in a word, Chenle is off again. Kun doesn’t have the power to call after him to stop running. Instead, he turns to John Suh. “Why’d you go and do that.”

“Qian,” John Suh starts, crossing his arms in a lazy movement, his eyebrow quipped and his face is so smug that Kun wants to throttle him. “Have you ever said no to Chenle?”

He got him there.

Kun crosses his arms stiffly, his mouth curling into a snarl. “You do realize that they’re scheduled for a double shift, right?”

John Suh pauses, uncrossing his arms to tug sheepishly at his hair. “Actually, I did not.”

Kun sighs and he wants to complain a bit more, but whatever he was going to say gets stuck somewhere in his throat as his eyes focus on John Suh’s fingers. He swallows. “Whatever. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Wait,” John Suh says, frowning. “Aren’t you going to show me your illegal muggle goods?”

Kun wants to laugh at John Suh’s worried face, but he settles for a trusty old glare. “I would’ve but _someone_ messed up my schedule, and now I have to go and do all my homework before a four-hour patrol.”

“Right,” John Suh gulps. “See you tonight.”


	5. Chapter 5

And that’s how Kun finds himself patrolling around Gryffindor Tower with John fucking Suh, a whole two weeks earlier than their next patrol was supposed to be. He still can’t believe that Head students Taeil and Seulgi decided that Jisung and Chenle were allowed to keep patrolling together, even though they aren’t even in the same houses and they’re both second years.

What’s worse, Kun can’t fucking believe that no one wants to switch partners with him. He figured that Taeyong would’ve wanted to switch, and he even tried to get Gryffindor’s Jeno to partner up with him, but they both refused and he can’t even be mad at them for it. They both have those damn puppy eyes and now he’s stuck with John Suh for the rest of the year.

Yes, he did offer to spend some more time with him earlier today, but showing John Suh his iPhone in the Hufflepuff common room is way different than being alone with him for hours on a starry night where the moon is positively glowing and he’s almost sure he can see the stars reflected in John Suh’s honey brown eyes.

Anyway, Kun _swears_ he saw Jisung and Chenle doing precisely nothing in the common room when he rushed by earlier this afternoon to start on his homework. He briefly thinks that he could’ve roughed them up and forced them to take on their shift as scheduled, but he doesn’t want to think about that now. Not when John Suh is whistling a tune next to him and he’s still trying to figure out where it’s from, wondering how his whistling can be that good.

John Suh finishes his tune, burrowing his hands in the pockets of his robes. “How are you sleeping lately?”

“I-, uh. Fine. It’s fine.” The question catches Kun off-guard. He looks down at his shoes, hiding his smile. “You really do ask questions like a normal person now.”

“It occurred to me that you might have been right,” John Suh says, his voice careful. “My tone hasn’t always been the friendliest.”

“Yeah, just your tone,” Kun snorts, looking up at John Suh’s to see the smirk on his face and the glint in his eyes.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing at all,” Kun hums pleasantly and John Suh laughs. Kun very carefully chooses not to think about the way his chest aches at the sound.

They chatter idly about being back at Hogwarts as they patrol the corridors that open up to the courtyard, and Kun wonders how it’s so easy for him to ignore nearly five years worth of animosity between them. He wonders, as John Suh animatedly tells him a story about the Gryffindor locker room involving Jaehyun, Lucas, broomsticks and a suspicious amount of towels, if this is the year that they’ll stop fighting each other over every minuscule thing just for the sake of fighting, and instead can talk to each other, just for the sake of talking.

John Suh stretches out his arms, his hand almost smacking Kun in the head. “It was, like, _this_ big and then Lucas wrestled it to the floor. I’ve never seen Jaehyun that scandalized.”

Kun laughs, more at John Suh’s giddy amusement than anything else and he wants to ask what happened next, but a familiar set of yellow and blue robes catches his eye across the courtyard.

“Doie, Taeyong-hyung!” He waves at the pair sitting beneath an oak tree.

“Hey, Kun!” Doyoung yells, waving at Kun to come over.

Kun strolls down the open hall, catching a glimpse of Taeyong whispering furiously into Doyoung’s ear as they get up. He watches on, walking through the stone archway and down the stairs as Doyoung’s easy smile turns cloudy by the second.

“What’s up?” he asks worriedly when he’s finally made his way across, John Suh’s robe rustling behind him.

“Nothing much,” Doyoung says with an awkward shrug, his expression tense as he juts his chin out to John Suh. “Shouldn’t you be patroling with that one over there?”

Kun chokes on a laugh. “What? Are you the patrol police or something, shit.”

“Can’t be slacking while on the job now, can you?” Doyoung smirks, sticking out his tongue.

Kun throws him the finger and Doyoung laughs, throwing a double-bird back in their usual move and Kun figures that whatever was troubling Doyoung earlier must’ve been nothing important.

“We, uh, we should probably move on,” John Suh says, shifting on his feet, kicking at a stray pebble in the grass. “Hallways to patrol and all that.”

Doyoung huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right, off you go then.”

“Be careful.” Taeyong smiles at them, patting Doyoung’s back.

Kun shoots Doyoung a questioning look, but his friend just shakes his head and gestures at him to go.

It’s only when they’re a few corridors away from the courtyard that Kun has the mind to talk again. “So that's why Taeyong-hyung was busy tonight. I guess things are going well between him and Doie, huh.”

“Yeah,” John Suh replies distractedly, looking straight ahead at the dark passage leading to the eastern part of the castle. “I’m happy for them.”

Time crawls by slowly despite their newfound not-as-hostile-as-before attitude towards each other. Honestly, there are only so many ways you can fill up a four-hour patrol shift when you’re not even on first-name basis with someone.

Kun is about to propose that they take a break when John Suh gasps, rushing down the stone steps leading towards the grassy fields near the lake and the Quidditch pitch. He follows without a word, walking down the steps as John Suh crouches down near a bush and starts cooing.

He kneels next to the other, hearing a soft meow right when a snowy white paw darts out to swipe at John Suh’s wriggling fingers. “Are you sure it’s not a professor?”

“I’m good at transfiguration. Trust me, I’d know,” John Suh answers, his face full of concentration as he tries to coax out the animal. “Here, kitty, kitty, come to me, don’t be scared.”

Kun almost wants to laugh at the sight of John Suh’s big and hulking figure whispering sweet nothings to a leafy bush, but then he squares up and _pounces_ into the shrub.

Kun looks on, wide-eyed, as John Suh flops backwards into the grass, cradling a tiny white kitten in his palms.

He smiles at Kun, spluttering out a few leaves. “Come pet her. She is so small.”

“Okay,” Kun breathes out, crawling to where John Suh’s sitting cross-legged in the grass, the cat fitting sweetly in the palm of his left hand.

Kun lets the kitten sniff him for a second, grinning when she licks his fingers with a rough tongue. He scritches her under her tiny head and she purrs contentedly. 

“Aren’t you a good girl?” John Suh coos, petting her gently before setting her down on the grass between them. They watch her wriggle her way to Kun’s cloak. “It looks like this little princess likes you, Qian.”

“She has no collar, where’d she come from?” Kun mulls, jostling the fabric where the kitten is clawing at his cloak.

“Maybe she wandered out from the forest, or a student brought back a pregnant cat from home,” John Suh laughs, dropping down to lie in the grass, inching closer to the kitten. “But you’re so cute, I wonder if someone is looking for you.”

Kun swallows, his throat feeling dry at the sight. “We should probably bring her to the groundskeeper.”

“You’re right,” John Suh sighs, taking out his wand to let her chase it from left to right with her tiny paws. “But I don’t wanna let you go just yet.”

“We can take a break,” Kun breathes out, dizzying at the beaming look of delight John Suh directs at him at his suggestion.

Kun runs his fingers through the cat’s soft, white fur and he idly wonders if John Suh’s hair would be just as soft. He shakes off the odd thought, summoning a plate of tuna from the kitchens and he vows to apologize to the staff tomorrow morning.

They ooh and aww while they watch her eat or, well, John Suh does so for the most part as Kun watches, lying next to the kitty in the grass. John Suh’s gentle and sweet with the kitten, making sure she chews on her food properly before letting her eat another small mouthful and Kun realizes, then, that he can’t lie to himself any longer about his wayward feelings.

So what if he thinks that John Suh is a bit adorable? What else is he supposed to think watching him coo at a little ball of fluff, with twigs and leaves stick out from his hair at weird angles.

He reaches over to pet the kitten again, squashing down the stupid feelings he really can’t afford right now, but she paws at his hand and her claws pierce his skin. Kun lets out a soft yelp, more so out of surprise than anything else, as he patiently waits for the kitten to let him go.

He goes to pet her with his other hand when she finally lets him go, sucking absentmindedly at his now bleeding finger, listening to her sweet purrs.

“What the fuck are you doing,” John Suh seethes, sitting up, his eyes fixated on Kun's mouth.

Kun startles at John Suh’s words, rising from where he was lying down with a frown. He lets go of his finger, wriggling the now wet digit as he shrugs. “Relax, I’ve got my vaccines. Magical and muggle.”

John Suh glowers, shaking his head, and he grabs his wand from the grass, murmuring a healing spell faster than Kun can register.

His finger stitches itself together and the small flesh wound disappears just like that.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Kun bites out, anger bubbling up so swiftly in his stomach he can’t stop his words from spilling out. “But if you ever put a spell on me again without my permission I will fuck you up, John Suh. I swear to god I fucking will.”

And Kun thinks he’s really done it now, he’s actually going to fight with John Suh because he couldn’t shut up and take the gesture of good-will for what it was, but damn it. He can’t stand magic without explicit consent.

Against all his expectations, though, John Suh doesn’t curse him out.

Instead, he fucking _whines_ , his hand belatedly shooting up to his mouth to stop the sound. It doesn’t hide the blush mottling his cheeks, though, nor does it stop Kun from seeing the redness blossoming steadily down his neck. Kun’s anger dissipates right as he wonders if that flush travels further down John Suh’s chest and wow- Wasn’t that a fucking visual.

“I’m sorry,” John Suh squeaks out, scooping up the kitten now sleeping soundly in the grass with a single hand, his other still busy hiding his expression. He jumps up in a flurry of robes and ‘I’m sorry’s’, storming away without another glance back before Kun has the chance to say ‘whatever, it’s fine, magic is just not all that casual for me.’

What the hell!?!


	6. Chapter 6

Between studying for mid-terms, running the underclassmen remedial programme and his duties as a prefect, Kun doesn't get the chance to think about that weird night with John Suh for two blissful weeks.

Yes, he is running ragged and sleeps an average of three and a half hours per night, but when he trudges down the stairs to his room, ever-thankful that his bed is at the entryway's immediate left, falling face-down on his heavy comforter and sleep comes to him without a struggle he can't help but be thankful. What little sleep he has is peaceful, unhurried, absent of any nightmares, and maybe even more surprising, not full of his odd dreams about a certain prefect who has been plaguing him for the past five years.

In fact, he doesn't think about John Suh at all. Not even when mid-terms are finally over and he has the time to sleep a full eight hours.

Until his next prefect meeting.

Kun blinks, fighting hard to stave off the frown threatening to settle on his face as he looks at the Head Boy across the meeting room. “I’m in charge of the Yule Ball?”

"Yep," Head Boy Taeil says cheerily while he straightens his Ravenclaw robe.

A laugh sounds from his left, right when Seulgi dismisses the meeting and Kun turns to glare at Doyoung from where he’s snickering behind Taeyong.

Doyoung puts up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I'll be busy the next few months. _So,_ so busy.”

The motherfucker monopolized detention duty and _everyone let him_.

What’s more, they all fucking ignored him during the entire meeting. Yangyang and Jaemin spoke right over him when they were discussing who’d be in charge of proctoring exams, which he chalked up to typical Slytherin bullshit. But then the usually so polite Ravenclaw Renjun and the morally-just albeit a little weird Gryffindor Hendery waltzed right over him when they were discussing who’d be on counselling duty. Kun doesn't recall his underclassmen ever being this disrespectful to him.

He looks around the room full of traitors, his eyes finally landing on John Suh sitting sullenly next to Mark on the Gryffindor/Slytherin side of the meeting room. He hasn’t spoken up once during today’s meeting, which was more than a little odd, and he was one of the few who hadn't been assigned any new duties. 

"You," he calls out, not noticing the entire room falling silent. "Do you still need help with your term paper?"

John Suh nods haltingly and Kun clicks his tongue.

“Help me with the Yule Ball and I’ll help you with your paper,” he says, waiting for John Suh to agree with a jerk of his head before turning away and stomping out of the prefect meeting room. He’s not even outside for half a second when he hears the whoops and hollers, and honestly, if they wanted John Suh to organize the damn Ball they should’ve picked him to do it in the first place. 

A few days later, Kun finds himself in their assigned empty classroom-turned-headquarters going through last Yule Ball’s books, overwhelmed at everything that needs to be sorted out within a month and a half.

He glances to his right, watching John Suh read through the expense books, his lips pursed as he scribbles notes from time to time, his quill sweeping steadily across the parchment.

Fuck, that also means a month and a half of these meeting with John fucking Suh.

Kun doesn’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to ask John Suh to help him with the ball, especially after their last patrol shift got more than a little weird. He’s glad that Chenle and Jisung made true on their promise to take on those extra shifts which he’s been abusing to the fullest extent and beyond, despite their protests. That should teach them not to shirk their duties as prefects.

On the other hand, Kun has no doubt, though, that the Ball will be a roaring success if John Suh’s involved with the organization. The Gryffindor Keeper is wildly popular with the student body after all and he would know what they would love to see on a special night.

He clears his throat, his eyes focused on the candle flickering on their desk. “So, where should we start?”

“Why are you asking me?” John Suh asks, looking up from his notes. “You’re in charge, Qian.”

“Yeah,” Kun grimaces as he rubs his eyes. “I don’t know why, though.”

John Suh hums, twirling his quill. “Probably because you’re great at organizing events? Remember two years ago when you did Midsummer Madness? Sure, the Yule Ball is a bit bigger in terms of organization and importance, but the festival went really well.”

“I thought you hated me and Midsummer Madness,” Kun blurts out.

“Why would you think that?” John Suh asks, looking genuinely surprised.

“Remember when I was chosen for Midsummer Madness and you were put in my group?” Kun shakes his head at the memory, a wry smile on his lips. “You said, without missing a beat, ‘oh god no, I can’t do this, put me down for event security.’ What else was I supposed to think?”

“You heard that?” John Suh whispers, chewing at his plump bottom lip. "That wasn’t what you think it was."

“What was that, then?”

“I just-” John Suh stutters and Kun minutely wonders if he’ll start doing that insane blushing thing again. He doesn’t, though, finishing his sentence after taking a deep breath. “It’s just that I didn’t want to organize the event. Really, it wasn’t about you, _personally_.”

Kun sighs, plucking nervously at his fingers laying atop his desk. “Yeah, right, okay.” 

“Qian, Midsummer Madness went well, the Great Hall looked beautiful and people had a great time." John Suh takes his hand in his own, squeezing his fingers with reassurance so sincere, Kun doesn’t want him to let go. "I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll make this Yule Ball go freakin’ amazing.” 

“Let’s start then, shall we?” Kun says, smiling tentatively at the other, rubbing his thumb against John Suh's calloused palm trembling slightly against his own.

Later, during dinner, Kun’s chewing absentmindedly on his food, trying to get it all in before he has to go do his homework and work on the damned Yule Ball budget.

“How’s Suh?” Doyoung asks, his voice smug and his face smug and even the way he eats his roasted potatoes is smug.

“Shut the fuck up, Doyoung,” Kun says, giving Doyoung a sidelong glance before turning back to his plate. “It’s fine, whatever.”

“Is Johnny still being weird?” Ten asks from across the table.

“No, he’s…” Kun starts. He’s sweet, helpful, an amazing listener who also makes wonderful suggestions well within their measly budget. Oh, and has he mentioned that he’s devastatingly handsome? “I said it’s fine.”

“That’s good,” Sicheng says, wolfing down his food and Kun thinks that yeah, you know what, it _is_ good.

The next time they meet is the following week, right after John Suh’s morning practice. Kun asked him a few days earlier when he saw him in the corridors to meet him at the grassy plain between the Quidditch pitch and the lake. 

Who would’ve thought that the Hogwarts Wi-Fi would have a sweet spot not all too far from where they found that kitten all those weeks ago.

John Suh comes bounding across the field, still wearing his practice uniform, bag slung over his shoulder and broomstick in his other hand. “Sorry, am I late?”

“No, you’re right on time,” Kun says, patting at the grass next to him.

John Suh plops down as instructed, coming to sit much closer to Kun than he had anticipated. Like this, Kun can smell the salty sweat in Jonh Suh’s hair and the leathery scent still clinging to his fingers from his practice gloves.

Kun clears his throat, shifting slightly in the grass as he tries to fish his phone out from his back pocket. He unlocks his Grey iPhone 11 with his thumb, handing it over to an eagerly waiting John Suh.

“This is your smartphone, right?”

“Yeah, you can play around with it if you want. Browse through the apps and stuff. Do you remember what I told you about WeChat and Instagram?”

“Those are the social media applications you prefer. You use WeChat instead of WhatsApp or Facebook Messenger,” John Suh says, clumsily navigating through his phone. “And Instagram is dangerous and you should always be cautious about your personal information.”

Kun leans back on his palms, his fingers tightening in the grass as he chokes down a laugh at John Suh’s oddly proper answer.

“Try going to Insta, you can scroll through my feed if you’d like.”

John Suh finds it after a little struggle, though he easily finds Kun’s profile. “You wear glasses? Oh my god, you can drive a muggle car? Wait- is your hair _blue_ here?”

“Okay, that’s enough Instagram for today.” Kun snatches his phone from John Suh’s prying eyes before he sees any other incriminating pictures. “You can play around with it some more if you promise to stay away from my gallery and Instagram.”

John Suh doesn’t even need to think it over before agreeing. “Deal.”

Kun remembers then that he had another thing to show to the other. He fishes out a small box from his pocket, wriggling the little box as he shows it off.

“What is it?”

“AirPods,” Kun answers, putting in the left earphone and handing John Suh the right. “You put it in your ear, like this. See?”

“Okay.. If you say so..” John Suh hesitates, awkwardly inserting the small device as instructed.

Kun opens up his music library, lying down in the grass as he scrolls through the songs on his phone. He finally decides on a playlist, pressing play with an odd sense of excitement and nerves before holding up his phone for John Suh to grab.

John Suh gasps softly when the music starts to play in his ear, pausing when his hand closes over Kun’s, his rough fingers slowly curling over Kun’s own slender digits as he takes his phone. He doesn’t let go of his hand. “This is a nice song.”

“It’s one of my favourites,” Kun replies, breath hitching when John Suh’s thumb grazes over his knuckles before releasing.

Kun shivers, the touch lingering long after John Suh’s turned away already, busily trying to figure out how to use google. He closes his eyes against the early morning sun, cataloguing the earthy scent of the grass, the brush of John Suh’s thigh against his own and his favourite song playing through shared earphones.

“Can I ask you something?” John Suh asks, startling Kun out of an unexpected slumber and he doesn’t know how long he’s nodded off for.

Kun sits up, cracking his neck. “Sure.”

“Why do you still call me by my full name? You’re the only one who does so... Well, apart from some teachers who really have it out for me.”

“Force of habit, I guess?” Kun shrugs and their arms bump together. “What do you want me to call you? John? Johnny?”

John Suh barks out a laugh, his shoulders shaking against Kun's. “Why does my name sound so weird when you say it?”

“Johnster? Jonathan? Jojo?” Kun rattles on, enjoying the soft blush rising timidly on John Suh’s cheeks.

“Stop it,” John Suh says exasperated, fingering the lock of hair coiling tantalizingly around his ear. “You could… No, I don’t know.”

“What is it?” Kun asks, a little breathless.

“Well, I have a Korean name,” John Suh explains, wetting his lips with the tip of his red tongue. “It’s Youngho.”

“Youngho,” Kun repeats, carefully sounding out the foreign word. He decides that he likes it. He likes it a lot, he thinks, as he watches Youngho’s earlobe turning rosier by the second, his white AirPod a stark contrast to the ruddy skin.

Plucking his phone from Youngho’s warm fingers, Kun looks away. "Can I ask you something, too?"

"Yeah, always," Youngho breathes out next to him.

"Why were you sent to detention the other day?"

"Ah, uh," Youngho hesitates, hugging his knees. "It wasn't anything serious."

"Violent misconduct is more than a little serious, Youngho," Kun says, voice low. "What happened? I thought fighting was our thing?"  
  
"Very funny, Qian," Youngho snorts, before ruffling his hair in frustration. "Look, they were just... talking shit and I set them straight. That's all."

"I talk shit about you all the time and we barely have actual physical fights," Kun quips.  
  
"Yeah, but that's us," Youngho explains offhandedly like that's enough of an answer.

Kun runs his fingers through the cold and dewy grass. "You promised you'd tell me, though."

Youngho sighs as he flops down, arm thrown across his eyes. "Look, they were talking shit about muggles, okay? So, that's why I kicked their asses and that's why Headmaster Kwon let me off easily."

"Oh," Kun replies, because what else can he say, really?

"Yup."

Slowly, Kun lowers himself next to Youngho, watching the clouds pass by at a lazy pace above them, his playlist pulsing through his earphone on shuffle. “Want to try taking a selfie?”


	7. Chapter 7

They get into this weird rhythm. More often than not, Kun finds Youngho outside his classroom and they discuss Yule Ball matters and the latest issues of the muggle world with each other as they walk to their next classes. It’s pleasant and different and unexpectedly easy. Kun doesn’t even mind the distressing amount of staring they receive from the student body, though, honestly, he can’t even blame them.

He figures that everyone is a bit nervous and confused at the odd turn of events. There was an incident somewhere last year where he and Youngho very nearly physically fought in the hallway over the merits of drinking tea before or after dinner. Kun understands their bewilderment and inner turmoil, he really does.

So, when Jungwoo puts a worried hand on his shoulder when they come across him along the stone corridors leading towards the library, he can only smile at the young Slytherin.

“Do you want me to get Ten-hyung?” Jungwoo whispers lowly, nervously looking back to where Youngho is patiently waiting on the side, leaning against the stone wall in a now practised ease.

Kun privately thinks it’s funny how he’s the only one who everyone checks up on. Youngho just gets puzzled looks and mild threats from the general Hufflepuff populace.

“It’s fine, really, we’re together,” Kun laughs, patting placatingly at Jungwoo’s back. “We’re just walking together, I mean.”

And really they’re just waking but it’s, quite frankly, amazing how happy it makes Kun to be able to do that with Youngho. He thinks it as they walk to their next prefect meeting, he thinks it as they part ways in the Great Hall, he thinks it as they look for reference material for Youngho’s paper in the library and he even thinks it as he’s getting ready for bed, looking at a picture Youngho took of them with his iPhone.

He’s happy, really, very, incredibly so, and he kind of owes it all to Youngho.

They're spread out on the grassy plain behind the Quidditch practice field.

Youngho's on his back, still wearing his training cloaks, brows damp with sweat and his cheeks rosy from exertion. He'd run to their little hide-out after practice, not even bothering to shower or change before plopping beside Kun where he'd been waiting. 

It is still too cold out, especially in the early hours of the morning, to walk around without their cloaks and sweaters, but Kun has left his own in his room so he spreads out Youngho's cloak over his legs to keep him warm in the dewy morning weather.

He plucks at the little balls of fabric on the well-worn material, and Youngho lazily opens his eyes to watch him do it.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Kun asks eventually, lying down unhurriedly next to Youngho, the scent of morning dew and leather oil filling his mind.

"I had a feeling you'd come." Youngho hums, turning to look at Kun with a pleased smile. "The weather is just as you like it. Did you bring your.. MacBook, was it?”

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s easier to show you the true wonders of the internet on a bigger screen.”

Kun feels around for his beat-up MacBook, dragging it into the space between him and Youngho in the grass. He’ll have to spell his laptop clean later today, choosing not to care about any bugs crawling up into the device or any blades of grass finding its way into the fans.

“What are you going to show me?” Youngho asks, curling closer with excited wonder.

“I thought we could look at decorations for the Yule Ball, maybe get some inspiration from the web. Look, if I google this..” Kun starts, typing away at his laptop before turning it to Youngho to let him try.

Youngho scrolls, clumsily at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, much quicker than when he tried to navigate the iPhone. It’s probably because he has more space on a laptop, Kun thinks, watching Youngho’s large hands dance across his keyboard.

“This looks good. I think there’s a store in the Village where they sell trinkets like this. We should check it out,” Youngho says excitedly, muttering something about permissions and Taeil and favours and weekends under his breath as he scrolls through what looks like some middle-aged housewife’s Christmas Pinterest board.

He's hunched over Kun's laptop, busily making his own Pinterest account for their own Yule Ball-board and Kun really can't help but laugh.

"What are you laughing at, Qian?" Youngho asks, smiling back at Kun while he carefully types in his very own e-mail address. GryffKeepJohnster@gmail.com.

"Nothing," Kun says over Youngho's shoulder, watching him create a 'Qian+Suh's Best Yule Ever' board with deft hands.   
  
They spend the morning like that, scribbling notes on parchment and pinning DIY Christmas decorations to their stupid board, before remembering that they missed breakfast and are definitely going to miss class if they don't leave right now.

They hastily run across the field, groaning at having forgotten the time _again,_ and Kun sighs at the breakfast they missed while Youngho prays he doesn't get thrown into detention with Doyoung Kim who hates his guts.

Kun makes it on time, Youngho, however, does not.

And it is only a few days later when it hits Kun like a ton of bricks, the force of it almost physically making him clutch his chest and wince. There he was on the quad, sitting with his friends, talking about everything and nothing, when a familiar laugh rips him away from the conversation at hand. He turns his head before he can stop himself, really, following the sweet sound so familiar he could probably recognize it even when asleep.

There, on the balustrade, hanging from the heavy grey stone beams, laughing with his friends about something or another, is Youngho. The source of all his woes these past five years, but more recently things have changed drastically between them, haven’t they?

He can vaguely hear Doyoung talking to him, but Youngho shifts, then, catching his eye across the courtyard with his stupid bandaged nose and his loopy smile. Youngho grins in a manner that Kun can only describe as wolfish, before throwing him an awkward wink and Kun shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning upwards before he gets the chance to turn away and hide it.

He’s not reading any of this wrong right? Not any more, at least. Youngho likes him, doesn’t he? And fuck, Kun likes him, too. He really, really does.

Kun chances a look back, but Youngho still staring at him so he averts his eyes again, ignoring the jeers and chuckles from Doyoung and Ten as they kindly point out the redness of his face. He can take their taunts, though. He’s survived five years of John fucking Suh's animosity and hostility, after all. 

Instead of facing his newfound information head-on, Kun does what he does best: ignore everything by pouring himself into his studies. Off to the library, he goes with an extra bounce in his step except-

“What are you doing here?” Kun asks, mildly distressed and wholly unprepared at seeing Youngho in the otherwise deserted study hall so quick after realizing the extent of his own feelings.

"Studying," Youngho sighs, pushing aside what looks to be his Herbology textbook, gesturing for Kun to take the empty seat next to him.

Kun carefully arranges his tomes and quill on the desk, sliding into the cold bench. "Mid-terms only ended a few weeks ago, though."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I failed all of them," Youngho snorts derisively, thumbing the pages of his book.

"You don't know that, yet." Kun tries, hoping it’ll cheer him up, but his wry smile only deepens.

"No," Youngho exhales, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I know it."

Kun reaches out to catch the hand battling his already unruly locks in his own, giving him a light squeeze. "Trouble studying?"

"You could say that." Youngho closes his book with a huff. "Trouble concentrating, trouble sleeping, trouble eating, trouble with everything."

"How come?"

"Oh, you know. " Youngho shrugs, not meeting his eyes as he thumbs at the skin of Kun’s hand in his own. "Stuff."

Unfortunately, Kun does know. “You can talk to me about it if you’d like?”

“Yeah, no.” Youngho shakes his head, detangling his fingers from Kun's before crossing his arms tightly. “Thanks, though.”

“Alright,” Kun says softy, not taking any offence in particular. We all have our bad days and Youngho is clearly having one right now.

Youngho grunts, still avoiding Kun's searching eyes, but then he stands up, chair scraping across the floor. "I'm an idiot."

“Hey, what makes you say that?” Kun asks as he looks up at Youngho, puzzled as hell and more than a little worried. But the other doesn't reply, his eyes staring straight at Kun's hands laying atop his Herbology book. “Youngho?” 

He looks to Kun at the call of his name, his gaze full of something Kun can't quite place. “Meet me in the Advanced Herbology stacks, L to P.”

Kun blinks as Youngho walks off without another word. He turns to his untouched homework in front of him, so closely laid out next to Youngho's own setup, and his eyes dart towards the semi-circled window across the room, a stray leaf fluttering down the large oak tree outside. Kun bites his lip and then he goes.

He makes his way to the Advanced Herbology shelves with an unsteady stride and gets a weird sense of déjà vu when he’s gently pushed against the stacks. A hand snakes behind him to rest on his lower back so the heavy tomes don’t poke at his flesh and another hand curls around the base of his neck in a promise. Kun is face to face again with those honey-brown eyes.

“Youngho, what are you doing?” Kun whispers, his voice wobbling over the words as the rapid beating of his heart makes him shudder all over.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” Youngho bites at his lip, his eyes are blazing hot and his fingers are shaking on the tender skin of Kun’s neck. His voice is steady, though, as he speaks. “Kun, I've been so stupid, but I like you. I like you so much.”

Kun draws in a sharp breath, his hands travelling up Youngho’s chest to loop around his neck. “Say that again.”

“I like-”

“No, my name. Say it again.”

“Kun,” Youngho breathes out, “ _Kun,_ I like you”

“I like you, too,” Kun smiles, a giggle bubbling up as he tugs Youngho closer. His fingers run through his hair and he's finally, _finally_ , able to touch that damned lock curling sweetly around Youngho’s red earlobe after years of torment. He cradles Youngho's face closer, and the other rests his forehead against his own.

"Post corny stuff about us on your Instastory? Let's plan that stupid ball the way we like it and be my date? Go out with me?"Youngho's eyes sparkle and his cheeks are ruddy as he whispers the words against Kun's mouth, and Kun swears he can feel the heat of the other's blush on his own skin. 

“I'm not posting corny stuff about us on my Insta,” Kun snorts, tugging Youngho impossibly closer by the soft strands of his perfect fluffy hair, catching his red-hot lips in his own. 

The librarian doesn’t spell them silent this time. Instead, they immediately get sent to detention, supervised by one Prefect Doyoung.

Kun has a great time. Youngho, however, does not.


	8. Extra

“How long have you known and why the shit didn’t you tell me?” Kun asks, sitting down next to Ten when he finds him working on his Divination homework in the Great Hall one afternoon.

Ten scoffs, carefully putting down his quill. “Please, I knew Johnny had a big fat crush on you before _he_ even knew. It was so painful watching him practically harass you that first year, acting like a complete fool because he was so confused. But I gotta say it was incredibly hilarious when you terrorized him right back.”

“He's liked me all this time?” Kun very nearly shouts, but luckily it comes out in a harsh whisper and only one or two students at the Slytherin table bother to turn to look at them.

Ten rolls his eyes, reaching over to grab a cup of coffee. “God, I don't know when it all _really_ started. I just know that it took him a little while before he figured out his feelings. Can't say the same for you, though."

Kun squints, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that while it took Johnny a few years to figure out his feelings, it took you until _now_ to figure out yours,” Ten points out, taking a sip of his coffee.

Kun knits his brows. “I didn’t have a crush on Youngho until, like, a few months ago at the earliest.”

Ten laughs, shaking his head. “Do you not remember the Quidditch Cup in our first year? Gryffindor vs. Slytherin? It was the wildest game ever. Slytherin won and you, Doyo and me all got shitfaced in the Dungeon when Yuta-hyung smuggled in pumpkin vodka to the after-party.”

“I vaguely remember it.” Kun still can’t stand the smell of pumpkin juice.

“At breakfast that next morning – I swear you were still drunk – you turned to me and practically burst into tears when you saw the disappointment on Johnny’s face a few tables over.” Ten sips on his drink, his lip quirked in a self-satisfied smirk. “That’s only one example of countless - and I really do mean countless - of other instances.”

“That’s not..” Kun starts to protest, but he falls silent, biting his lip. “Be quiet and drink your coffee.”

Ten barks out a laugh, twirling his quill as he bows over his homework. “Whatever you say, chief.”


	9. (Extra) Extra

_One summer, on a beach somewhere in Thailand_

“Maybe if you weren’t such a massive dickhead jock to him all the time, you’d be together by now. Be nice, ask him out like a normal person instead of continuing your stupid hostile act.” Ten slams down his large icy drink, smelling faintly of alcohol and lemons, on the arm of his lounge chair. "So you like him, big deal, now go flirt with him like you mean it _._ "

Johnny startles, his toes curling miserably in the sand as he watches the tiny umbrella almost fall out of the enormous tumbler. "How can I ask him out when he doesn’t even want to talk to me? How can I flirt with him when I've already ruined things between us like this?” He pouts behind his aviators, sinking lower down his sunbed to (unsuccessfully) avoid Ten’s annoyed stare.

“Well can you blame him?” Ten flicks his sunglasses back on, turning to lie on his chest. "God, John, I don’t know where to begin with you."

Johnny suspects he's turned away because he doesn’t want to look at his face any longer. He is grateful for the reprieve, though, watching the ocean waves lap cautiously at the sandy shore as he contemplates what a hot mess he's made out of his life. Somewhere in the distance, Lucas is playing Quidditch with some of the locals. Johnny doesn't even feel like playing anymore.

Ten sighs, the plastic lounge chair straining as he turns back around to face Johnny again. He lifts up his sunglasses, eyes twinkling in mischief and mild interest. “Why don’t you just ask your prefect friends to hook you two up? Y’know, force him to really face you. Despite the way you've acted these past years, I know that you've been looking out for him in your own seriously dumb and emotionally constipated way.”

"How?" Johnny perks up at that, sitting up to hug his slightly sun-burnt knees as he eagerly waits for Ten to continue.

Ten laughs at his enthusiasm and he shakes his head, thinking about how Johnny came all the way over to Thailand just to mope around like a lovesick puppy. “Jesus Christ, go get me a drink and I’ll help you think of something. Go on now.”

Johnny, of course, listens and goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompter I hope that you enjoyed this even a little bit!! 😄 I seriously have a hate/love relationship with this fic but I'm super glad I had the chance to write it.
> 
> This was so hard for me to write, mostly because I know jack-shit about harry potter and i got distracted by pics of kun and johnny on my pinterest mood-board every time i tried to work on this thing.
> 
> Let me know what you think and I hope yall had fun reading hehe ❤️


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